


Pitter Patter

by WhoopsOK



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Ass Play, Begging, Exhibitionism, Kinktober, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Watersports, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: “Yeah,” Wade sings like it doesn’t matter at all and Peter is stupid for thinking so. “And like I so helpfully pointed out before,” he leans closer to press his lips to Peter’s ear, “your boss isn’t here and the camera is busy.” Peter shudders when Wade’s teeth graze his ear, “We could be, too.”(Wade entertains Peter on a slow, wet day at work.)





	Pitter Patter

**Author's Note:**

> Where does Peter work? An excellent question! 
> 
> …Anyway, here we go!

The thunderstorms that rolled in overnight meant Peter knew it was going to be a slow day before he even rolled out of bed to slog his way to work. Even so, he’s a little surprised at _how_ slow it is. He’s _also_ annoyed that he’s the only one that didn’t call in sick today, the traitors.

Working the counter isn’t that hard, especially when there’s nobody around to care if he’s slouching, or whether or not he’s got his phone plugged into the register to charge. The manager hasn’t come back from his “errands” yet, likely won’t until it’s time for a shift change—Peter glances at the clock and sighs—three hours from now. Great.

So he’s passing the time burning up his data to watch let’s plays on YouTube, only throwing on his Customer Service Smile when the security system dings softly to let him know someone is approaching the door. The slow stream of slightly damp and mildly disgruntled people is the only thing keeping him from wondering the floor out of sheer boredom. It seems like every time he takes more than two steps away from the counter, someone comes in and he’s got to go back.

It’s after one such instance, after watching the door swing shut, that his Spidey-senses spark so sharply he can feel it in his scalp; _someone’s standing behind him._

Peter’s quick reflexes are the only thing saving Deadpool from the broken nose that would’ve _served him fucking right._ “What the hell, Wade!?” he hisses, trying to calm his heartrate.

Wade is, as ever, undeterred by his sharp tone, grinning and stepping right into Peter’s face. “Baby Boy, you don’t sound happy to see me! I’m here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“You’re not supposed to be behind the counter,” Peter replies, unimpressed, but mostly just for show. It’s been a long time since his day hasn’t improved just from seeing Wade. Still, he can’t let him know that so easily when he’s being a little shit.

“Your boss isn’t here to stop me,” Wade points out, leaning on the counter beside him.

“There are still cameras.”

“Not right now there aren’t.”

“Wha--?” Peter turns to see the CCTV feed for the area behind the counter distinctly obscured by a pink pony head. He glares at Wade.

“What! Come on, there’s a superhero and a merc in here! Nothing’s gonna happen that Mr. Chuckles will need to check on,” Wade kisses Peter’s cheek. “I’ll duck if the bell dings, ok? I am _absolutely_ 100% willing to be kept on the down low,” he says, making grabby hands at Peter. “Your ass is down there.”

It takes a bit of effort not to laugh at that, but Peter can’t quite fight back a disgusted scoff. “You’re gonna get me fired,” he says, sounding resigned to the fact before he kisses Wade briefly.

Wade shrugs, deepens the kiss. “You don’t _have_ to work here…”

“I’m not gonna be your sugar baby, ‘pool,” Peter snarks, turning back to the door.

“You like it when I call you baby, sugar!” Wade defends, “But I’m sure Stark would pay enough for you to roll in hundreds while he—”

“Don’t you _fucking_ dare put that image in my head,” Peter cuts in.

“Why? Does it make you hot, baby?”

Peter finds himself having a good time in spite of having to stay at the counter, their friendly bickering familiar and welcome. Wade’s hand creeping over the seat of his pants is _also_ familiar, so much so that Peter doesn’t even react to it at first, caught up in keeping track of the frayed threads of Wade’s story telling. But the shock of skin on skin brings him back to the present in which he is standing at _his job,_ with his boyfriend’s hand making a steady descent down his pants. “Wade!” he shouts, reaching back to catch him by the wrist.

“You’re wearing the H&M slacks!” Wade defends, pouting.

“I’m also at _work!_ ” Peter whispers fiercely, but also, pointedly, doesn’t force Wade’s hand out.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Wade sings like it doesn’t matter at all and Peter is stupid for thinking so. “And like I so helpfully pointed out before,” he leans closer to press his lips to Peter’s ear, “your boss isn’t here and the camera is busy.” Peter shudders when Wade’s teeth graze his ear, “We could be, too.”

Peter knows a losing fight when he sees one, but he’s never been one to turn away from it. He tries to make a rule, pretending he’s not desperately close to shoving Deapool into the broom closet and letting him do whatever he can think of until he hears the security bell ring. “You’re not fucking me here,” he says unsteadily.

“Keep your shirt on, I wasn’t going to ask that,” Wade says, but then he’s got his other hand reaching for Peter’s belt and Peter’s letting him, arousal sparking warm in his chest. “Gotta drop trou, though,” he says, casually opening his button, sliding down his zipper.

Peter’s breathing catches when his trousers slide off his hips, already giving enough room for Wade’s hands to creep further into his pants. “Wade,” he says softly.

“Fuck, I love these briefs, you’re killing me, babe,” Wade mutters stroking his dick through fabric, a finger creeping down to press at Peter’s hole. Peter nearly folds in half over the top of the counter that hits him just above his lowest rib. “The things I want to do to you.”

“What are you going to—?” Peter’s heart flutters in his chest when Wade leans around to kiss him, slowly escalating in intensity until Peter is too hot, breathing too hard. He rolls is growing arousal into Wade’s palm, huffing when the hand is pulled away, even if it’s only just to squeeze his ass with both hands.

“Gotta keep your eye on the merchandise, Spidey,” Wade replies against his lips, before stepping behind him. He pushes Peter’s briefs down to join his pants. “Face forward.”

Swallowing, Peter nods, bracing his hands on the counter as Wade kisses his neck, then down his back through the fabric of his shirt. Even with a general idea of what’s about to happen—Wade loves a lot of things about Peter, but his ass is near the top of the list—he still gasps, letting it out on a low groan when Wade’s lips press against his bare skin.

This is never something Peter would’ve thought to ask for himself, but Wade made such a production of it the first time he’d gotten _hooked._ The drag of Wade’s lips until he uses his tongue, letting his mouth slide slick across Peter’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Peter’s breath hitches when Wade’s teeth join the mix, scraping gently enough that he starts to shake, can feel his palms sweating against the plastic countertop. He opens his mouth to ask for—

The security bell dings.

Peter goes fumbling, reaching for his pants, reaching for Wade, reaching for the _emergency lockdown button,_ but then Wade’s hands are on his thighs, holding hard enough that Peter freezes on instinct. It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t read like a threat, but in odd moments of intimacy, Peter is inclined to obey the order of his lover’s hands.

“Hello!” a customer calls, before turning away from him.

“ _Welcome_ ,” Peter squeaks, clears his throat. “Welcome!”

Wade is shaking with laughter. “Your voice is so sexy when you’re holding back,” he whispers against Peter’s ass.

“You son of—” Peter’s voice stalls out and he manages to catch himself just short of letting his mouth drop open when Wade bites down so hard that Peter’s whole body sways. “ _Oh._ ”

“Shh, get too loud and they’ll hear you,” Wade warns, alternating between kneading and biting Peter’s ass while he nervously eyes the customer as they cross the store. Peter knows the type. They’re going to stand there comparing every single thing on the labels down to the letter. Great, they aren’t going to be paying much attention to him.

_Fucking awful_ , because they aren’t leaving fast enough considering Wade is pressing a thumb against his tai—

Peter’s body reacts faster than his brain does when his hand snaps down to grab Wade by the wrist, squeezing so hard he’s sure Wade’s bones must ache.

Wade goes still behind him, immediately pulling his mouth away. “Peter?”

“I—.” For a moment, embarrassment honestly chokes Peter. It isn’t that he doesn’t want Wade to touch him there, it’s that he’s been standing at this counter for several hours and several sodas and when Wade teased at his hole, it made his bladder twinge. He can’t even look at Wade when he shakily admits, “I have to _pee_.”

It takes Wade so long to respond that Peter is expecting laughter. But he stops just short of jerking rather obviously to look at him when Wade just says, “I can help with that.”

“ _What?_ ”

There’s a slight scraping sound under the desk and then Peter startles when Wade’s hands leave his thighs only to reappear on his hips. “Whenever you’re ready, baby.”

Peter wants to say no on principle, but he’s already so out of his element, bare assed with a quickly waning erection at his _job_ with a customer less than ten feet away. Everything is already so surreal, the fact that he’s got to pee so bad his stomach is cramping is not even the weirdest thing about this day, _Wade telling him to piss under the counter, though?_

“I can’t,” Peter whimpers.

“Can I make you?” Wade asks, and Peter swallows at the thought.

“ _Can_ you?”

Wade _does_ laugh then, giving Peter a flash of mild dread before he presses his hand down on Peter’s bladder, making his breath stall in his chest.

“ _Oh_ ,” Peter says softly, he feels himself go hot all over as he starts dribbling. The instinct to press his legs together hits, but Wade feels it coming, shoves his legs between Peter’s trapping them spread, surely getting piss all down the front of his shirt in the process. “W—,” he starts to gasp his name when their lone customer decides to finally make herself known, making a beeline for the counter. “Hi!” he exclaims, in a voice two whole octaves higher than normal. “All done?!”

She eyes him like he’s a lunatic and, _fuck_ , if only she knew, Wade has the worse ideas. Then her face twists, almost accusatory, “Do you hear that?”

“ _What?_ ” Peter’s nearly numb with shock, because oh, _oh fuck,_ she can hear his— He clenches with everything he’s got, sways out of Wade’s grip. “Oh. We’ve—We’ve got a leak,” he says weakly at the look on her face, “Boss didn’t get the gutter fixed, so it’s dribbling down the wall.”

“Oh-kay…” she says slowly, setting her things on the counter and pointedly rifling through her purse.

“ _Right yeah so anyway_ , that’ll be 7.80—” Peter almost loses control of his voice and cries aloud when Wade’s mouth closes on him. Wade is pushing on his stomach harder than before and Peter’s got his fists clenched behind the register as he tries, he _tries_ —

Wade sneaks a hand around to push up against his taint and Peter _can’t._ He’s pissing in Wade’s mouth and the very thought is making him so lightheaded he can barely figure out the woman’s change even with the amount displayed on the register. Wade’s mouth is hot and loose around him as he pisses down his _throat_ until there’s nothing left. He can feel himself getting hard now, horrified pleasure tingling up his whole body when Wade’s mouth suddenly tightens with purpose. He can’t look her in the eye, but can tell even from his peripherals, she knows something is up _._ Is she _smirking at him?_

“Sorry, feeling sorta off today,” Peter says in a rush. His hand is shaking when he drops the bills in her hand, “Have a good one.”

She mutters something in response that Peter can’t parse fast enough, but she doesn’t bother repeating herself at his confused sound. Waving over her shoulder, she heads for the exit without looking back. As soon as the door shuts, he gasps, leaning hard on the counter with one hand. “Holy shit, Wade…” he groans when Wade pulls off him with a pop.

“That was hot,” Wade says, scraping his teeth along Peter’s hip. Peter whines when he reaches down to touch himself, to guide himself back into Wade’s mouth, and Wade’s hand closes hard around his wrist, stopping him. “Ah-ah, no you don’t, Spidey. Let Daddy have this moment.”

“Don’t call yourself—” Peter loses his train of thought. He could force his hand out of Wade’s grip, but he doesn’t, lets Wade drag his hand until it’s on his shoulder. He holds on for dear life, but then… Nothing happens. “Wade?”

“Mm?”

“What are you _doing_?” Peter leans back to look down at him, feeling a weird flash of heat to see his boyfriend covered in _his piss._ “Oh, shit…”

“Shh, just lookin’ at you,” Wade answers, shushing him again when he sputters indignantly, “You’re so _hard_.”

“ _Yeah, no shit, I—_ ” Peter can hear the strain in his own voice as Wade traces the head of his cock with a finger. “ _Wade, please fucking—_ ”

“Please fucking what?” Wade says, his lips dragging down Peter’s cock and back up, lazily. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you over the rain.” He licks around the head teasingly, “Gotta say it, Petey, what do you want?”

Peter should be well past the point of shame, but still glances up like someone might have materialized and overhear him. “I-I want to come,” he hisses softly.

Wade just laughs at that, softly, breath puffing against Peter’s damp skin. “That wasn’t asking very nicely! Aren’t you the one always talking about how my manners need work?”

“You—” Peter cries out when Wade’s hand on his ass goes from resting there to actively pressing against his rim. “ _Fuck._ ”

“We’ve gotta work on this language, too!” Wade says casually, like Peter isn’t rocking against his thumb, _wishing_ they sold lube here. “Very unprofessional, or so I’ve heard.”

…Well, this whole situation is astoundingly unprofessional, who cares at this point? Peter’s so hot for it he isn’t even considering not coming, if Wade won’t do it, his hand will suffice. And frankly, they’re in for _way_ more than a pound at this point, why not make it a tenner? Cutting his eyes at the door, silently willing any other customers to just fuck off, just for _ten more minutes_ , Peter takes a breath and goes for broke.

“Wade, _Wade_ , please, I’m so close, please make me come. I don’t care how, please, just—just don’t stop touching me, your hands, your mouth, you let me piss in—” Peter loses track of the nonsense he’d been spinning, actually floored by what’s just happened. “Wait, fuck, oh my gosh, I just pissed in your _mouth._ You sucked me off while I was pissing, I can’t believe—Wade, you’re so perfect, what the fuck? Love you so much, love your _mouth_ , I can’t even think straight. Wade, I’m hard for you, I’m so hard, you gotta help,” he’s genuinely started whining which is embarrassing, but he can’t help it. He’s weirdly close to tearing up. “Please, Wade, _get me off, I want it so bad, want you so much—_ ”

“Well, that’d make a sailor blush,” Wade whispers, sounding properly affected for the first time since this began. “Ok, baby boy, let me take care of you, hold still for me.”

Easier said than done at this point, but Peter does his best not to move other than the fine tremors wracking his whole body. The wet heat of Wade’s mouth makes him sway, but he clenches his hand on Wade’s shoulder, the counter biting into his palm on the other, but if he lets go, his knees may buckle. Wade’s reached around to get two hands full of his ass before taking him down in a slow slide that has Peter’s toes curling in his shoes.

“Yeah, Wade, please, just like that, ‘s so good,” Peter lets out in a breathless whine.

Wade responds with something Peter doesn’t bother trying to figure out if he was actually meant to decipher, garbled around his dick. But beyond that, Wade doesn’t waste time with any tricks, which Peter appreciates. Yeah, normally Peter loves when Wade takes his time, works him over for hours until they’re both so desperate they can’t bother with slow or gentle any longer. It hasn’t taken hours today, but Wade still gives it to him dirty and rough. Peter finds there’s an appeal to getting sucked off like they’re on a timer, the urgency twisting tight in Peter’s stomach.

“ _Wade_ ,” Peter whines, bending double and nearly resting his face on the register. _Surely_ bruising Wade with how hard he’s gripping his shoulder. “Babe, I’m gonna—”

Massaging Peter’s ass, Wade just hums encouragingly, swallowing as Peter comes, panting and gasping above him.

It’s a slow drag for Peter to come back to his own body, starting with the shaky groan he lets out when Wade sucks him gently as he pulls off and stands up between Peter and the counter. _Fuck_ , his lips are all puffy and slick, eyes blown and he’s damp with piss, smirking like it’s no big deal, _tenting his pants._

“You’re—” Wade doesn’t get the chance to finish that thought, Peter kissing it away with such intensity that Wade stumbles back against the counter. The surprised grunt he lets out turns into quiet chuckling against Peter’s mouth. “Oh, and he even kisses me on the mouth after, what a _dreamboat_! We’re a lucky guy!”

Peter pulls his pants up, scowling though he doesn’t quite stop kissing Wade. “And I was gonna get you off, too, but I think I changed my—”

“Too late, you already suggested it!” Wade exclaims, rolling his arousal against Peter’s hip. “No take-backsies!”

That’s the exact sort of absurdist logic Wade genuinely subscribes to and it’s really a little pathetic that Peter’s chest clenches with love for him over it. Still, he does have a point; it wouldn’t really be fair to leave Wade—who is a _really_ good kisser—hanging after what he just did. Kissing down Wade’s throat, Peter sends one last ‘ _please fuck off, thanks_ ’ to any potential customers before shutting his eyes and stroking over Wade’s arousal.

Here’s to hoping the security bell is loud enough to alert him to any visitors, because the only thing Peter can focus on right now is the sounds Wade makes as Peter takes him in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading…praise yourself a little today


End file.
